


Allegiance

by LuxKen27



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-17
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-23 20:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 19,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxKen27/pseuds/LuxKen27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strictly-come-canon, post-manga. Kagome is forced to seek out Sesshoumaru's protection in the wake of unexpected tragedy. As she insinuates herself into his life, Sesshoumaru comes to realize that her second chance is also his, as her presence drives him to confront mistakes from his own past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Appearance

**Author's Note:**

> _Author's Note:_ This series was originally written and posted to LiveJournal between 2008 and 2010. It is complete in 20 parts. Enjoy.
> 
>  **DISCLAIMER:** The _Inuyasha_ concept, storyline, and characters are © 1996-2008 Rumiko Takahashi/Shogakukan/Viz Media. No money is being made from the creation of this material. No copyright infringement is intended.

“Let me go!”

Sesshoumaru’s attention was drawn across the courtyard to the front gates of his castle, where his guard appeared to be engaged in a small but hearty scuffle. Five of them surrounded their captive, some creature with the ability to emit such piercing cries as they struggled so mightily to contain it.

“Never!” one of the men grunted.

“What business would a _human_ have with our lord?” another sneered.

“She _reeks_ of hanyou,” another noted, holding his nose in the air.

His curiosity piqued, Sesshoumaru approached the fray. Though his expression was arranged in its usual impassive mask, his heart had picked up considerable speed at the accusations. _Could it be?_ he thought recklessly as he moved forward. _Rin…?_

“Onii-san!” 

One single word was enough to bring an immediate hush over the still-assembling crowd of onlookers. Slowly, their eyes were drawn away from the impudent human, towards the great taiyoukai, in measure of his reaction.

Sesshoumaru’s heart dropped as he caught sight of Kagome for the first time in innumerable years. His ire spiked at such a familiar address, as it would only invite unnecessary speculation from the entirety of his court.

He gave her a long, assessing stare, not sure if he was impressed or irked that she did not cower before him.

“Leave her be,” he finally commanded, much to the shock of the crowd.

“My lord?” the general of the guard sputtered, striving to hide the uncertainty in his voice. “You acknowledge this wench?”

Sesshoumaru shot him a dark, cutting look. “Do not make me repeat myself,” he warned.

After a quick, concerned glance to his fellow guards, the general acquiesced, letting her go and drawing his men away.

A low din of conversation arose from the crowd, whispers growing as Kagome drew herself to her full height before them. She fisted her hands at her sides, holding her chin up, her eyes cast directly at Sesshoumaru.

“You are dismissed,” he directed the crowd, his words quick to disperse the clutch of gawking courtiers.

He waited while they filed away, taking their rampant curiosity and gossip with them, before addressing this long-lost human miko.

“Did my brother’s hospitality finally run its course?” he asked bemusedly, the hint of a cruel smile touching the corners of his mouth.

“No, but his life did,” she replied shortly, her tone rife with tension.

Surprise sliced through him. _How could I not have heard?_ he wondered, narrowing his eyes at her.

Yet, perhaps it wasn’t all that surprising. 

He’d been the last to know about Rin, after all…

“And the well?” he asked quietly.

Kagome shook her head, her eyes closing as fear and frustration spiked in her scent. “It’s closed,” she sighed. “I – I tried it right after – ” She stopped, choking back her words, before drawing a deep breath to calm herself. “You’re the only one left.” _Did you think I’d be here if I had any other alternative?_

The implication was clear, and Sesshoumaru found himself appreciating her forthrightness.

Suddenly she approached him, falling into a formal bow. “Please, my lord, would you consider taking me in?”

He fought his immediate instinct, to take a step back, to separate himself from her and her turmoil. As he gazed at her bowed head, her shoulders shaking slightly, he recognized her desperation and sadness. His eyes roved over her tiny form. She looked horrible – gaunt, exhausted, disheveled.

It was obvious that she had undertaken the long, hard journey from his brother’s domain under the cover of night, moving as quickly as possible…

…which made him wonder, just what was she running from?

“Arise,” he snapped, startling her with his irritated tone. She glanced up at him, her large brown eyes meeting his, and once again he was stabbed with the wisp of a memory. The mix of hope and determination that gazed back at him had once belonged to only one other girl.

 _God_ damn _these humans_ , he mused silently, feeling his resistance breaking.

He was nothing if not honorable; even if he hadn’t cared for or about Inuyasha’s existence, the hanyou had still been his relation. 

“Don’t make me regret this,” he said softly, if coldly, before turning away. Her relief was palpable, and he felt slightly disgusted with himself. He had only taken a few steps before turning back, giving her a speculative gaze. “And don’t ever call me ‘onii-san’ again.”


	2. Vengeance

“No.”

He felt, more than heard, the huff of annoyance that escaped her lips. “Why not?”

He swiftly turned to face her, unable to resist unleashing one of his signature cold golden glares. “This is not your battle. You will only be in the way.”

Kagome scowled at him, struggling to hold her frustration in check. “I could be an asset,” she argued. “You know of my powers and abilities. Besides…” Her eyes dropped away from his as something other than irritation clouded her features. “I feel like I need to repay you.”

He drew back slightly, giving her an assessing stare. It had scarcely been a fortnight since she’d shown up at his doorstep so unexpectedly, dirty and tired and thin, yet proud, holding her head high as she explained her situation and asked for protection. 

It was horrible timing, really; he’d been expecting this attack on his holding and had been preparing his forces to defend the walls of his castle – and the lands beyond – against the imminent invading forces.

It had certainly crossed his mind, to exploit her powers to his advantage. She was probably the only person on the planet who could purify the likes of _him_ , if she put her mind to it. She had taken an interest in his methodical plotting, seemingly in awe of his thoroughness.

He was Sesshoumaru, Lord of the West. He left _nothing_ to chance.

“Unnecessary,” he replied. “Besides, you’ll be of more use to me alive than dead.”

She acquiesced at that, but he sensed it was not the end of the conversation.

Indeed, not. She was stubborn, intent on demonstrating that her battle skills were intact. Still, he was wary – even during the battle with Naraku, it was painfully obvious that she didn’t have full control of her miko powers. Each time she had approached him and attempted to prove her worth, he rejected her outright.

But then his top general was felled by sudden illness on the eve of the expected attack.

He knew there was no one more battle-worn among his ranks than the little miko-in-training. As dawn broke, his vassals grew antsy for his decision. Against his better judgment, he put her in charge of the far flank, defending the least-vulnerable point of his lands.

He felt it, the moment she was felled.

He was all the way across the courtyard, leading the battle against the enemy directly. There was no scream of panic or shout of warning when she went down, but he sensed it all the same, as though she was standing at his shoulder. He reacted before he could think, turning away, cutting through swathes of enemy forces. Sudden urgency flooded through him, a low, guttural snarl ripping from his throat. The need to find her – protect her – avenge her – was primal, spreading up from his core, overwhelming him.

He wouldn’t stop until he killed them all for daring to injure her…

…and later, when she was safe again, he would wonder how those instincts were awoken once more.


	3. Reassurance

“My lord?”

Sesshoumaru ignored the incredulous remark, closing the door behind himself. The infirmary was not a place he visited often, or even occasionally; no doubt such was the reason for the guard’s confused address.

That, and the fact that he was supposed to be halfway across the eastern mountains by now, seeking out his compensation for having to defend his home against invaders. 

But he couldn’t help it. He had to know. His mind would not rest until he confirmed it with his own eyes.

His expression was impassive as he walked down the length of the dark, narrow room. His progress was slow and measured as his eyes swept over the rows of ill and injured. Finally, he spotted his object of interest: she was at the very end of the corridor, shunted off to the side under the drafty window, her pallet flush against the cold stone wall. _This will not do_ , he thought, his features sinking into a scowl.

His approach was quiet – not that it truly mattered. She lay perfectly still on the makeshift bed, her body battered and bruised, her eyes closed, her hair matted against her forehead. Her chest rose and fell in a slightly irregular rhythm, her breath heavy as it eased past her slightly-opened lips. So weakened was she from the battle that her spiritual powers lay totally dormant.

A surge of intensity rushed over him as he drew closer, looking down at her. This feeling, suffocating though it seemed, was a mere echo of the primal urgency that had flooded through him the moment she was struck down in battle. And yet, even now, with the knowledge that she was safe and alive, his heartbeat still accelerated, his youki still flared.

He sank down beside her, pinning his golden gaze on her face, studying her. He didn’t understand why he felt this way. What was it about her that had provoked these primitive instincts – to protect, to avenge? She was a _human_ , after all – and, perhaps more distastefully, had been his brother’s mate.

Nonetheless, he felt drawn to her, the sadness that lingered in her soul reflecting his own sense of regret.

His hand brushed over hers.

“My lord,” came a soft voice. 

Sesshoumaru glanced down, recognizing the footwear of the court physician. He rose swiftly, silently, letting go of Kagome’s hand. He was keenly aware that he was being watched – with much interest – by the others in the room.

He didn’t care. His eyes never left her face.

“She is resilient, my lord,” the physician noted shrewdly, casting a knowing glance at the stoic taiyoukai. “She will be fine.”

Sesshoumaru turned away, a shadow of relief touching his features. “Move her away from here,” he commanded quietly, gesturing at the window. “She deserves more than a mere modicum of your attention.”

Before the physician could respond, Sesshoumaru was gone, sweeping out of the dark and dreary room just as quietly as he had arrived.


	4. Alliance

Two weeks later, he found her on the corner of an abandoned practice range, firing arrow after angry arrow into a far target. He held back for a moment, admiring her improving skill, her shots landing with deadly precision. As he drew nearer, however, he realized that she hardly had such control over herself, a fine shimmer of rage radiating from her too-thin frame.

The accompanying scent was sour to his nostrils, but did not dissuade his approach.

She whirled around, stifling a startled gasp at his presence, clutching her bow close to her chest. He, too, was brought up short as he took in her appearance. Ghastly bruises and marks covered every visible inch of her – wounds too fresh to be battle scars.

Defiant tears slipped down her cheeks as she met his gaze, pride and resentment lurking in the shadows of her eyes.

Inexplicable anger coiled in his gut. “Who did this to you?” he asked, surprised at the guttural tone of his voice. His hands fisted at his sides.

She turned away from him. “Your men don’t respect me.”

“ _Who_?” he demanded. This would not stand. Were his men truly so stupid? Did they not realize the true extent of her powers? Or where they merely that short of memory, unable to look beyond her mortality?

“Does it matter?” she sighed. “They fear me, but they don’t respect me.” She shrugged, her arms unfurling loosely, the bow slack in her hand. “They were only putting me in my place.” 

His eyes blazed with golden fire as he stared at the back of her head. “ _Your place_ ,” he hissed possessively, “is with me. We are allies.” Some feeling he couldn’t identify rankled against his nerves, causing his youki to flare. That primal urge was rising high within him again, and he was equally shocked and appalled to find himself at its mercy.

“Don’t you understand?” she murmured darkly. “That’s not good enough anymore.”

He resisted the urge to reach out for her, to draw her close. A little voice in the back of his mind mocked him. _It’s just like Rin, all over again._

After losing her, he swore he wouldn’t make the same mistakes twice.

“Then what do you suggest?” he asked tersely, keeping his hands firmly at his sides, striving to regain control over the inner workings of his body.

A long stretch of silence filled the space between them before she turned to face him once more. “A union.”

For the first time in his life, he was truly taken aback. “Do you realize what you say?” 

“You know I have nowhere else to turn,” she replied, her tone thin, pained. “I have put myself at your mercy, in exchange for protection in this world.” _And you have failed me._

The implication of her words struck deep in his heart, and again he wondered why it bothered him so much.

She raised her chin to look him directly in the eye. “I realize this proposal is radical, but there’s no other way I can stay here, in peace.”

Her aura was strong as she stood her ground, spiking and ebbing with the flow of her frustration. He realized that she found this solution just as unpleasant as he, yet he knew she spoke the truth. He couldn’t be with her every moment of the day – whoever was responsible for her current condition would find a way to continue.

He understood that he was partially to blame, for putting a human woman in charge of his youkai vassals in war. They resented the implication: that she was somehow equal to their general, or even to _him_ , their leader. Negotiations following the conflict had carried him away from the grounds, and obviously his men had taken out their umbrage on her in his stead.

She was far too proud to coming running to him for personal protection from them – besides which, such consideration had obviously only caused her harm.

Was he willing to go so far? 

Was the tenuous alliance they shared worth the price she asked?

_It’s just like Rin, all over again._


	5. Oath

Sesshoumaru led Kagome to a small clearing just beyond the walls of his castle. As they walked, he took a moment, allowing his gaze to wander over the landscape, retracing the old, familiar edges. This place was his secret, a childhood refuge where he’d fled when seeking comfort or solace. There was something about this place – the air, the sweet smell of the wildflowers blooming among the grass – that always set him immediately at ease, no matter what the cause of his troubles or unhappiness.

He’d never allowed another soul to discover this place, not even his beloved Rin.

They were silent as they stepped into the tiny meadow, so out of place among the dense forest surrounding his home. He approached the lone tree in the middle of the glen, touching its bark with soft reminiscence before turning to face her. The morning mist was still heavy in the air, cloaking them in silence, in secrecy. It was almost enough to hide the ugly bruises and wounds that covered her skin.

Almost.

“You’re sure about this?” he murmured, eyeing her critically.

“Yes.” Her gaze met his directly. He couldn’t help but wonder if she truly understood the consequences of her dangerous proposal – to strengthen their alliance into a union. It was a shocking notion, one he would have dismissed outright not so long ago. 

Not even Rin, who’d taught him _how_ to love, had been able to move his heart so far.

But this was not a matter of love…

“Hold out your wrist,” he directed.

She complied, the sleeve of her kimono falling back, revealing still-healing scars. She didn’t flinch as he swiped a claw across the marred flesh – and, perhaps more impressively, she held her purifying powers at bay.

He sliced his opposite wrist, quickly pressing the open wounds together, twining their hands to hold the seal in place.

He gazed at her as their blood mingled. Beyond her determination and resolve, there lurked something more… His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the unrepentant sadness twinkling in her eyes.

She didn’t want this. 

She didn’t want him for a mate. 

Even as her hand held firm in his, her fingers tracing the markings at his wrist, he realized: her heart still yearned for his long-dead brother.

The disappointment he felt was such that not even this nostalgic place could wash it away.

“It’s done,” he muttered a moment later, pulling away from her grasp. He brought her wrist to his lips to seal the wound, but she resisted.

“No,” she protested, attempting to pull away. “Leave it be.” _Let it stand, an open declaration to the others._

“Unnecessary,” he replied, tending to his own cut. “The others will know by the mark of my scent.”

She gazed down at her wrist, the wound already beginning to disappear. He sensed the overwhelming feeling that washed through her, the uncertainty and fear ebbing just beneath her surface.

He drew her into an embrace, the royal silk of his sleeves engulfing her. He felt her startled gasp, a whisper of breath against his chest, and squeezed his eyes shut. Now that her blood flowed through his veins, he felt what she felt – an emotional connection, as much as it was physical or mental. 

He could almost _feel_ the icy barriers around his heart thawing.

After a moment’s hesitation, she relaxed against him, resisting the innate call of her purifying powers – a move decidedly in his best interest, as he wore no armor or weapons.

“So a blood oath marks a youkai union?” she murmured, her head resting lightly on his shoulder, her eyes still drawn to her upturned wrist. 

He nodded silently, resisting the urge to draw her even closer as a surge of protectiveness flooded through him. Everything he was now experiencing was so new and acute, primal, a combination of her intense human emotions, and the primitive reaction of his youki to her.

His mate.

Not for love – for business. For protection. 

To preserve an alliance that would ultimately serve to increase his power, his wealth, the reach of his empire.

That would have to be enough…

His breath hitched when he felt the gentle pressure of her lips on his, her hands warm on his neck. “And that?” he breathed, blinking rapidly, momentarily confused as she pulled away.

“…is how humans seal a marriage,” she answered, smiling softly.


	6. Repentance

Not for the first time did he second-guess himself. 

He remembered why, the last time he’d faced such an ultimatum from a human girl, he’d rejected it.

 _Oh, God, the pain in her eyes…_

He thought the price he’d paid then – driving Rin away, losing her forever – was beyond a fair punishment.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Sesshoumaru lay on his stomach, his head propped slightly on a soft pillow, his hair spilling carelessly over the mattress. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his skin as he fought to control his breathing, the race of his pulse. Pain ravaged him, blooming up from his chest, coating his back, his neck, arcing across his scalp, pooling behind his eyes.

He had never allowed himself to show weakness in front of his people. It had taken all of his willpower to control his stoic façade in public, but here – at night – in his personal chamber – he would not suffer in silence.

It had been three days. Three days since their blood oath in the meadow. Three days since their return to his – their – holdings, as mates. 

Three days of anguish as he fought to control the overwhelming human emotions that now surged through him. 

Kagome sat mutely across the room from him, holding her knees to her chest, her gaze unfocused as she stared into the glowing fire pit. It was a familiar stance, one she kept for the duration of their evenings together. He suspected that she stayed behind in the room after he rose each morning, catching her sleep when she could – when she felt safe.

When she was alone.

He wanted to tell her to stop hiding in this place – to go out, face the world, accept the consequences of her actions. It had been _her_ idea, after all.

He should hardly be the only one suffering.

Even now, her emotions ebbed listlessly, from melancholy to fear to loneliness to worry, each flowing indistinctly into the next as she lost herself in her memories.

He was acutely aware of each subtle change in their course. Her emotions came to him not merely as flashes – pointed, urgent, yet mercifully brief – as had been the case with Rin. No, this was proving to be as he’d feared, constant waves of agony crashing down upon him. 

He felt everything she felt, heightened to the point of physical pain by his sensitive youki.

Her misery was his misery, and he loathed her for it.

Didn’t she understand? Couldn’t she comprehend what she was doing to him?

If he was to suffer one human’s misery in this world, it should have been _Rin’s_.

He couldn’t suppress the shuddering moan that ripped through him. He wrapped his mokomoko tighter around his body, finding some measure of relief settled against its luxurious fur, as his youki battled with her human blood. He exhaled deeply as a wave of feverish heat rolled over his body.

He could only hope that the worst had already passed. 

His youki was chipping away tirelessly at the recklessness of her aura. Soon, it would win, finding a way to control or suppress these feelings so he could return to his normal state of being: balanced. Cold. Calculating.

Another swell of fear surged over him as he heard Kagome stand and move towards him. He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching mokomoko tightly, his breathing laborious as she approached, full of hesitation and uncertainty. 

“Sesshoumaru?” she whispered tentatively, kneeling beside the bed.

He opened his eyes, piercing her with a golden blaze of unadulterated disgust. He didn’t bother to hide the obviousness of his pain from her, but as she gazed back at him, he found himself torn between lashing out in anger and curling up in exhaustion.

She reached out to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. Her touch proved instantly cool and calming, dispersing the heaviness of his despair, soothing the rush of his heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“You realize that this is all your fault,” he muttered derisively.

She nodded, taking a deep breath, her fingers splaying over his skin.

As her aura stilled, his youki flared, filling the room with an icy chill.

He eyed her carefully as she stroked his back. After a long moment, he leashed his energy once more, furrowing deeper against his pelt, his eyes slipping shut as the first signs of deep relaxation seeped over his exhausted body.

He had almost forgotten she was even there, until she uttered the last sentence he ever expected to hear:

_“Tell me what happened to Rin.”_


	7. Bargain

_“Tell me what happened to Rin.”_

Sesshoumaru’s eyes shot open, his gaze locking onto the woman kneeling by his bedside. _Oh, the irony_. Of course she would poke her nose where it didn’t belong, wondering just how it was she came to be at his side instead of the little human girl who had long accompanied him. 

It was only a matter of time, really.

He shouldn’t have been so shocked. 

Kagome gazed back at him steadily, her fingers warm and pliant as they kneaded his back with comforting strokes, waiting for the answer to her query.

“That’s none of your concern,” he ground out, bracing himself for the onslaught of righteous indignation that he was certain would be her response. God, how he loathed being at the mercy of her volatile emotions – !

He was pleasantly surprised when she reacted in no such way. He watched her carefully, striving to stay on his guard despite the heavy temptation of sleep that hovered over him.

She was silent for a long moment, her eyes slipping down to her lap, yet she continued to stroke his back softly. He could sense it, the war she waged within herself – even as his youki slowly reasserted its control of their mutual bond, shielding him from the quick, stabbing flashes that accompanied her waves of ever-changing sentiment.

Finally, she found her words. “Isn’t it?” she replied, her tone calm but determined as she addressed him. “We’ve pledged an alliance to one another, and made a blood oath…and right now you’re the one suffering for it.”

Her voice broke, tears threatening behind her eyes, her fingers curling into the skin of his back. She took a deep breath, collecting her wits, allowing her calm, rational side to persevere over the waves of anguish and fear.

He furrowed deeper into the warm circle of his mokomoko, observing her closely as she gathered her courage.

“You know my past, Sesshoumaru,” she continued, leaning closer, letting her gaze meet his. “You know my secrets, my memories, my regrets. All I’m asking is that you grant me the same courtesy.”

He marveled at the degree of control she held over herself, as if she finally realized just how integrally connected they were now – and just how much her unpredictable emotional state affected him. He found it admirable that she was allowing herself to be so vulnerable in front of him, as if in repayment for being the cause of his current condition.

The serene sense of tranquility that fell over him simultaneously soothed him, and made him even more suspicious.

The light stroking of his back fell away as she traced the contours of his face, her fingers drifting along his temple and over the pointed shape of his ear. He shuddered under her delicate touch as a soft wave of concern and compassion rolled over him.

“Let me know you, _understand_ you,” she urged.

 _Maybe_ … He had kept this firmly buried, for so very long, but if there was one person who knew what it was like to have loved and lost…

“My darling Sesshoumaru,” she whispered, clasping his hand. “Trust me. Help me. Let me help you.”

He hardly heard the words of her bargain; instead his mind began to spiral uneasily at the dusty old term of endearment. _Darling_. No one since his mother had called him that, except –

– once – 

“Don’t patronize me,” he mumbled, unable to draw up the necessary indignation under the heavy sense of slumber that pervaded the room.

She bristled, drawing back slightly. “What?”

“I am not your ‘darling,’” he replied, his youki roaring at the very idea. “You hold no love for me in your heart, not as long as you mourn that disgusting hanyou.”

“W-what does that have to do – ” she stumbled, flustered, her careful control slowly crumbling as his youki blossomed forth once again.

“How can you presume to ‘help me’ move past the mistakes and regrets of my past, when you still cling to yours?” he mused, his voice low and guttural. 

Some small, irrational part of him found perverse pleasure in watching her fumble for an answer. _Push her away – protect yourself – she has no right – !_

“So you admit that it was a mistake, whatever happened,” she pointed out, reigning in her irritation and attempting to move back to the subject at hand.

“Woman,” he warned, narrowing his eyes. “I advise you not to continue this line of reasoning, so long as my claws are in such close proximity to your neck.”

She squeezed the hand she held between hers, fighting to keep her emotions under control, aware that his youki was quite awake and ready for battle. “Why do you threaten me?” she asked softly, gently. “I only wish to help you.” _We’re in this together; work with me, please._

“You wish to help me?” he murmured, disguising his uneasiness with cool anger. “Then leave me be.” He withdrew from her grasp, rolling across the mattress, putting as much space between them as possible.

No. She would not.

He would not allow her.

_Darling..._

It was over, done, buried in the past. There was no use dragging it up now. He couldn’t change what had happened.

He couldn’t bring a dead girl back. Not again.

And no bargain was worth reliving that grief.


	8. Contemplation

Sesshoumaru knelt by the stone marker, tracing the inscription upon it with one claw. This place was so quiet…he was easily taken back to the last time he’d seen her – her innocent laughter ringing in his ears once again, the love and shy longing in her gaze as she raised her eyes to his…

_“My darling,” she whispered, a blush rising to her cheeks as she looked up at him…_

He closed his eyes against the assault of memories, but the anticipated wave of regret did not wash through him. Instead, a blanket of cautious calmness permeated the air…and he realized that he was no longer alone.

“How did you find me?” he asked dully, his eyes still trained on the marker.

“I followed you,” Kagome replied, coming to a halt just behind him. “I was worried.”

“Hm.” If that was true, then he was satisfied that she kept the greater part of her concern to herself. Even though his youki had won the war against her blood some time ago, thereby shielding him from the acute sensations that accompanied her constantly shifting emotions, those feelings still affected him more than he cared to admit.

He stood swiftly when he heard the soft brush of her hakama against the grass, bowing his head and allowing his hair to fall over his face. She moved to his side, her eyes sweeping over the small statue that marked Rin’s grave.

“She died in childbirth?” Kagome questioned, unable to temper her surprise.

He felt her gaze rise to his face, piercing through the shielding curtain of his hair.

He drew his mouth into a thin, grim line. “It wasn’t mine,” he informed her tightly, turning away.

“But she wanted it to be?” she mused, picking up on some hint in his tone. He made to leave, but she latched onto his arm, ceasing his movements.

He glanced back at her, eyes narrowing when he felt the cool clasp of her hand on his sleeve, only to immediately regret the action, as he saw her eyes light with new understanding.

“Or maybe you did?”


	9. Insight

_This is how you remind me…_

He was standing in a vaguely familiar field, his back flush against a tree, gazing out at the scene before him. A girl, dressed in fine silk robes, drifted through the wildflowers, humming happily to herself as she absently picked a bouquet. Her hair flowed freely over her shoulders, dancing on the edge of a breeze, swirling around her like a cloud when she turned, flashing him the biggest, brightest smile he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.

“Lord Sesshoumaru!” she called brightly, waving to him. “I have something special for you!”

He felt his lips curve into the barest of smiles in acknowledgement as she turned away, sinking gracefully into the lush grasses, heedless of the damage she was committing to her clothing as she busied herself with her task.

It was the very picture of contentment, a lazy afternoon spent in the company of his growing but ever playful ward…so why did he have the niggling feeling something was _wrong_?

He glanced over his shoulder, taking in the strange but familiar presence of the tree. As he gazed up into its lofty, high branches, it dawned on him: this was his secret place, the refuge of his childhood, a hidden clearing in the dense forest near his home.

He’d never brought anybody here.

Not even Rin.

A sense of foreboding crept over him as he reached out, his hand brushing against the bark.

_Blood._

A spear of anguish pierced his heart, and he whirled around, facing the field again. The wind was stronger now, lifting the fine fur of mokomoko as it brushed by him. Rin was standing again, with her back to him, her arms crossed over her abdomen, the flowers long forgotten.

_So much blood…_

_Look at me_ , he willed her, as another wave of unnerving distress rolled over him, clashing so mightily with the serenity of his surroundings. When she did not comply with this silent request, he took a step forward as sudden, irrational fear twisted through his gut.

He stumbled as he moved towards her, the metallic tang of freshly spilled blood in the air so sharp and swift that it nearly brought him to his knees. _Rin_ , he thought wildly, reaching blindly for the figure that never seemed to get any closer, no matter how far he went. _Look at me!_

_Blood, blood everywhere…so much blood…_

He was shocked to feel tears spring into his eyes, even as uncontrollable panic and despair washed through him. _I won’t make it in time_ , he realized, breaking into a run.

Slowly…slowly she turned to face him, and finally, he began to make headway in his pursuit. Blood trickled down her cheeks from the corners of her eyes, sweeping by her mouth, staining the front of her kimono.

 _I recognize this blood_ , he thought hazily, finally drawing close enough to her to distinguish the scents.

_It is hanyou blood…_

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, clutching her arms tightly over her now bloody, once-swollen midsection. “My darling…”

She collapsed where she stood and he rushed to her side, picking up her body and cradling it close, gently rocking back and forth as sorrow overwhelmed him.

 _Blood, blood_ , was all he could think. _So much blood, everywhere, covering her…covering me…_

“Blood,” moaned a voice, somewhere outside of his consciousness. 

Sesshoumaru jolted awake, sitting upright in his bed, his breath heaving rapidly in his chest. Absently, he pushed his hair away from his face, greedily sucking in the cool night air. _It was only a dream_ , he assured himself, wiping a hand across his brow.

_But…why would I have such a dream? Why now? Why about her?_

A quiet, urgent whimpering met his ears, dismissing his momentary confusion. He sat up a bit taller, glancing over the side of the bed, his eyes falling to rest on Kagome’s tightly curled form. She lay in a ball near the fire pit, hugging her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth as she sobbed quietly.

“So much blood…everywhere…oh, my God,” she murmured brokenly.

Another wave of despair crashed over him as his youki raged against the power of her blood. _I thought this was over_ , he groused silently, pushing the sheets away from his body and standing up, crossing the room to where she lay. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists, forcing the tides of her volatile emotions back. 

_This will not control me_ , he vowed – 

– only to be hit with that horrible image of Rin again.

“Why?” Kagome whispered from the vicinity of his feet, breaking through his internal struggle.

He crouched beside her, eyeing her warily. It was obvious she was having some sort of nightmare – and it seemed highly likely, given the unexpected strength and instability of their bond, that somehow her emotions had transferred to him, causing his own dreams to turn sour.

“Kagome,” he muttered, grasping her shoulder and giving her a none-too-subtle shake. “Awaken.”

She stilled under his hand, tears still streaking down her face, her breathing still erratic. Being so close to her, while she was in such obvious pain, roused his protective instincts. He narrowed his eyes, studying her now-silent form, debating what to do next. Panic and dread still ebbed at the back of his mind, giving him reason to believe she was still in the throes of her dream.

“Kagome,” he tried again, rolling her onto her back. “Stop this at once.”

She made a muffled, choking sound, but still, she did not awaken.

He sighed, sitting back on his heels, gazing over her thoughtfully. The emotions were beginning to fade from his mind, his usual sense of calm and balance once again restoring itself. Still, it troubled him that he could not rouse her; it also piqued his curiosity, as he wondered how her dreams could be related to his. She didn’t know the details of Rin’s death; indeed, she had only learned of the vaguest circumstances two days earlier.

“Kagome,” he said softly, allowing his hand to slide hesitantly over her neck, his thumb gently caressing her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, fresh tears trickling from the corners of her eyelids as her hands closed around his.

His heart skipped a beat, his skin warming to her touch as he continued his soft caresses, his fingers brushing lightly into her hair.

He was unprepared when she launched herself forward, suddenly clasping her arms around his neck, pressing herself against his chest, a new wave of warm tears pooling on his shoulder. He couldn’t resist the urge to wrap his arms around her in response, the need to protect and comfort his mate radiating heavily from his primal senses; his youki flared, filling the room, warding off any other potential harm.

“I’m sorry – I let you die – _Inuyasha_!” she choked out, absolutely shattering the moment. “I’m sorry – I wasn’t strong enough – to save you…”

And, suddenly, it all made sense, why the scent of hanyou blood had been so disgustingly visceral in his own dream.

“You’ll never forget him, will you,” he muttered, his embrace loosening, though not enough to drop her completely.

_And you’ll never make room in your heart for me._


	10. Shield

“You requested an audience with me, my lord?”

Sesshoumaru looked up from his work, allowing his eyes to fall upon the woman kneeling before him, her head bowed in quiet deference. His blood heated in his veins as she sat back on her heels, bringing her hands to rest on the bright red cloth of her hakama. For a long moment, he studied her, this woman who had brought him so much pain and conflict, allowing a heightened sense of irritation to wash over him. He was so tired of it all – of the suffering, of the regret, of the secrets she fought so hard to hide from him.

He wanted answers, and he wanted them now.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened to him?” he finally asked, resting his arms along the length of his desk.

Kagome’s head shot up, her eyes widening as they latched onto his. The tiniest hint of fear spiked in her scent, though she rushed to conceal it. Her expression fell carefully blank as she lowered her eyes once more.

“Why is it any of your concern?” she replied, softly but firmly. “You never cared about him when he was alive – ”

He was across the room before she could place him. “ _Why is it any of my concern_?” he repeated incredulously, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet. He gripped her wrist, shoving it in her face. “Have you forgotten? My blood flows through your veins,” he contended lowly, his voice on the edge of ice. His eyes fell shut as he took a deep breath, fighting the urge to flick his claws across her skin and remind her just how they had gotten into this predicament in the first place. 

“And your emotions flow through me,” he continued after a beat, eyeing her once more. “I know you regret whatever happened to him, so tell me –” – he squeezed her wrist, the bones come agonizingly close to breaking beneath his grip – “ – _tell me_ why you’re really here.”

Her gaze flickered to his, her expression betraying no hint of pain, though her scent – and her emotions – told quite the different story, ebbing and flowing against the back of his mind with fear, regret, and something unknown…

“I told you,” she whispered over a ragged breath, “I had nowhere else to go. I sought your protection.”

He snorted in response, his eyes narrowing as he released her. “You are more than capable of protecting yourself.”

She bit her lips, a violent tremble raking over her body as she cupped her wrist and held it close to her chest. The salty smell of tears spiked in his nose; his youki raged at the sight of her, vulnerable and hurt, warring against the pride and frustration that throbbed through him at her obstinacy. Dammit, but why couldn’t she be honest with him? She was bound to _him_ now, not his brother, and he had every right to know why she held back from him – !

A knock sounded at the door, shattering the tension in the room. Sesshoumaru paid it no heed, his attention focused solely on the woman before him and the storm of emotion she always managed to stir within him.

“My lord?” tried a voice, meek and unsure, muffled through the thin shoji screen.

“Not now,” Sesshoumaru snarled, cutting his eyes over to the opening door, fisting his hands and taking a deep breath to regain control of himself.

It was one of his castle guard. “My lord, with all due respect – ” The young youkai froze when he noted Kagome’s presence in the room, his eyes widening, then narrowing, then closing as he debated whether or not to continue.

“My lord,” he repeated after a moment, “we’ve found something that you ought to see. One of the scouts, on patrol to the south, engaged in conflict with an unknown but very powerful opponent.” He shot a decidedly cold glare in Kagome’s direction. “A _human_ opponent, with a weapon unlike anything we’ve ever seen before.”

Sesshoumaru inclined his head. “Bring it in,” he assented.

The young youkai gaped. “But my lord – ”

“If it is a human weapon,” Sesshoumaru cut in, his eyes narrowing into slits as he gazed at his guard, “then we will allow our resident human to identify it.”

Kagome looked up at him then, as if only now realizing there was someone else in the room. Sesshoumaru kept his eyes averted, pointedly fixing his attention to the doorway as a range of footsteps approached.

Five of the guard swooped into the room, carrying a long, smoking metal object on several layers of rough cloth. They halted a few steps from Sesshoumaru, allowing him to peruse the curious piece, though they stood apart from it as much as was physically possible, holding onto the edges of the blankets with claw-tipped fingers.

Sesshoumaru spared a cutting look at the original, accompanying guard. “This is a firearm,” he announced, unimpressed.

“Indeed, my lord,” the guard agreed, “but look at this.” He curled his hand into a fist, reaching down to brush the metal with the back of his hand.

A spark of purified light crackled forth at the contact, earning a gasp of pain and a singe of skin for the hapless soldier.

Sesshoumaru raised in a brow, new interest in his eyes as he gazed down the length of the black barrel. It was, indeed, unlike any firearm he’d ever seen before, especially as it seemed to have no handle. That end, however, was not as smooth as the other, suggesting to him that the weapon was broken. “What happened?” he asked, indicating the unformed end with a nod of his head.

“It exploded on him,” one of the guards holding the blankets piped up. “The human fired and it recoiled and blew up in his face. _That’s_ what killed him.”

“Got a taste of his own medicine,” another grumbled under his breath. “Now he knows what it feels like to be purified to a crisp.”

The others murmured in agreement, curling their hands even more towards their bodies, as if reacting to the very idea of touching the weapon.

“Kagome,” Sesshoumaru called, his eyes still trained forward. “What is this?”

He felt, rather than heard, her breath shuttering in her lungs as she approached his side. “Kamis above,” she gasped, gripping the sleeve of his kimono, unable to tear her gaze away.

Sesshoumaru turned his head, his eyes narrowing as he felt the rising tide of distress in the back of his mind. “What is this?” he pressed, unable to hold back the full bore of his irritation.

“It’s called an arquebus,” she stuttered, taking fistfuls of his sleeve until she found his arm. “It’s a gun.” 

Sesshoumaru steeled his spine, allowing his eyes to fall closed as he reigned in his emotions. “I’m aware of that,” he began through clenched teeth, only to find his next words stuck in his throat.

“It’s what killed him,” Kagome blurted out. “It’s what killed Inuyasha.” Her fingers curled around his arm, her nails digging into his flesh as sobs broke in her chest.

He turned to her, stunned. “My brother was felled by a _human weapon_?” he breathed, unable to believe his ears.

She was shaking, tears flowing down her cheeks, her distress and fear and anguish calling out to his youki. “They’ve found me,” she whispered. “They wanted me, and they followed me, and they found me.” Her free hand closed over her neck as another sob escaped.

“I can’t stay here,” she babbled. “I have to leave. Oh, kami, I can’t stay here one moment longer!”

“Leave,” Sesshoumaru directed to his guard, his gaze averting from Kagome for only a moment. His heart was pounding in his chest, his breath short in his lungs, the muscles across his abdomen constricting as the sheer force of her unleashed anguish threatened to overwhelm him. 

When silence greeted his order, he looked over his shoulder, only to see them staring back at him, mouths agape.

“I said go!” he growled, leaving no doubt in their minds as to the status of their lives should they defy him. They scrambled away, closing the door with a slam as they beat a hasty retreat.

Kagome swooned then, falling to her knees, continuing her mantra – “I can’t stay, I can’t stay, I can’t stay” – paying no heed to her surroundings as she sank to the floor. Her eyes were glassy, unfocused, her lips quivering as she rambled on.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Sesshoumaru declared, giving her a slight shake as his youki flared forth, filling the room with its customary icy chill. “Now tell me what happened to Inuyasha, and don’t leave out a detail.”

She gulped for air, curling her hands into the front of his kimono, half-disappearing into the fur of mokomoko. “Like I could ever forget,” she sighed, closing her eyes against the memories. “Oh, kami, I failed him, I wasn’t strong enough to save him, _I let him die_ – !”

“Focus,” he commanded, shaking her again. “How did he die?”

“Purified shot,” she whispered. “Purified shot and poison powder.”

His heart seized in his chest. _Purified shot and poison powder? But that’s –_

_– Rin –_

“They wanted _me_ all along,” she continued. “He was only trying to protect me…Oh, kami, why did I leave him alone that day? _That day_ , of all days – !” Her hands clenched into fists, her fingers threading through his clothes. “That’s why they’re here now. My lord, I swear to you, I don’t know how they found me, but it’s _me_ they want!”

“Kagome – ” he broke in.

“I failed him,” she pressed on, ignoring his interruption, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Don’t you see? _I failed him, and he died_. I can’t let the same thing happen to you!”

It was too much for him then; he wrapped his arms around her and dragged her against his chest, tightening the embrace as his protective instincts dictated. “Stop it,” he ordered. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Her breath was warm on his neck, her tears soaking into his shoulder. “But Sesshoumaru – ”

“But nothing,” he declared. “You wanted my protection? Well, now you have it.”

 _Besides_ , he thought, lowering his head to her shaking shoulder, _I’m not entirely sure it’s_ you _they want_.


	11. Embrace

“I apologize,” she announced, dry-eyed.

Sesshoumaru glanced over his shoulder, quirking a brow. _For what?_ he mused silently, his eyes sweeping over her form as she sat, unmoving, huddled close to the fire pit. _For keeping the truth of Inuyasha’s demise from me? For breaking down so uncontrollably in front of my guard?_

_For coming here in the first place?_

Her eyes met his. “For everything,” she clarified softly.

He faced forward again, pushing mokomoko from his shoulder as he continued his evening preparations before bed. She’d escaped into their room shortly after that horrible scene earlier in the day, when she had collapsed in his arms after being confronted with the means of her beloved Inuyasha’s death. Then – as now – he’d shrugged off her actions, content in the knowledge that she would not flee as threatened. He was grateful as well that she’d separated herself from him, sparing him the greater portion of her renewed grief.

He could feel her eyes boring into his back as he slipped into a light sleeping yukata, and briefly he wondered if she would spend this night as she had all the rest in their short time together as “mates”: awake…miserable…wallowing in her sorrow...

He frowned.

A small sighed escaped from her at that moment, breaking into his thoughts. “It’s funny,” she murmured, a tinge of bitter irony in the edge of her voice. “Every time I close my eyes – every time I’m alone – all I see is _that scene_. All I see is death, and blood, and destruction, and all I want to do is run.” She exhaled sharply. “How terrible is that? For ten years I was the healer of that village. Those people took me in, and accepted me as part of their life, alongside Inuyasha…and when they were at their lowest point, in need of me _the most_ , my gut response was to flee.”

Sesshoumaru lowered himself to sit on the mattress, his attention focused on spreading mokomoko across the sheets. There was something innately comforting about curling into its softness in those first vulnerable moments of sleep, and suddenly he felt very tired, as if the weight of the world was weighing upon his shoulders.

His heart skipped a beat when he heard her stand and move across the room on quiet feet, drawing closer to him. Some feeling he couldn’t describe tugged at his core, nudging the leash he held firm over his youki. His ministrations ceased as she sat beside him on the bed, holding herself very still.

“Have you ever wanted to run away from a situation because you couldn’t control it?” she whispered. “Do you know what that’s like?”

If he didn’t before, he did now – pangs of helpless fear stabbed at his gut, panic curling at the base of his spine as a wave of irrational fear rolled over him, turning his blood to ice in his veins. He clenched his fists, releasing his youki to fend off the effects of her blood, his innate calm restoring itself within moments.

A patch of silence stretched out between them, long enough to eventually command his attention. He turned, allowing his eyes to fall on her face. She sat in profile beside him, gazing off in contemplation, no hint of fear or tears in her aura. After a moment, she spoke. 

“Sometimes I think if I keep running, I’ll never have to see that scene again.”

He reached for her hand, pulling it from her lap, lacing his fingers through hers. In that moment – 

– in that lingering, regretful stare – 

– with those words –

– she reminded him of himself.

Memories stirred at the back of his mind. 

“I know,” he murmured with a slight sigh.

His eyes closed then as she leaned into him, a strange, welcoming weight warm against his side. She twined her arms around his neck and rested her head in the crook of his shoulder. He returned the embrace, tightening the circle of his arms as he pulled her closer…until he was left wondering just who was clinging to who.

“I know.”


	12. Thaw

Sesshoumaru awoke, opening his eyes and taking a deep breath as he greeted the morning. His mind was immediately alert as his senses roared to life, meeting and filtering each new sensation as it permeated the stillness of the room: the soft glow of light streaming through the window, the cool breeze wafting through the drafty walls, a distant bird’s morning call. He felt completely relaxed and at peace, curled in the comforting circle of mokomoko, as if waking from the best night of sleep that he’d ever experienced.

He would need his every wit about him; it was merely the calm before the storm. Those strange holy warriors had been spotted again, stalking the perimeter of his lands, and they would have to be dealt with sooner rather than later. He scowled as he stared up at the ceiling of his bedchamber, displeased at being assailed by a memory of the day before, when Kagome had been confronted with their odd but effective weapon. She’d claimed it had been the cause of Inuyasha’s death, and that did not sit well with him.

No, it had only confirmed his suspicions.

This was not the first time a group of ambitious but impudent humans had come sniffing around his holdings, looking for a fight. If they were stupid enough to settle in youkai territory, he could summon no sympathy for their plight when they were caught up in the wars of his kind. It was not, and never would be, at the forefront of his planning to take into consideration the humans who stood in the way of his empire’s inevitable expansion; he fought his battles against fellow taiyoukai, all others be damned.

Humans, however, were nothing if not resilient. Those villages, left in tatters following bouts of youkai sparring, had taken to summoning these holy men with the purified weaponry. Stories circulated amongst the generals, turning these none-so-special humans into legends, wielding their purified shot and poison powder with great effectiveness against youki-rich swords and arrows. However, the only confirmed reports of deaths that reached his ears were deaths of hanyous. It was no surprise, perhaps, given their comparatively weaker bodies and wills…besides, hanyous were considered no great loss to the youkai community. Indeed, Sesshoumaru hadn’t given the oddly powerful humans or their targeted hanyous much thought –

– until they brought it to his door.

Sesshoumaru narrowed his eyes, turning his attention away from the ceiling in an attempt to corral his thoughts. _What need do I have for reminiscence_ , he mused, _when the threat is imminent? The time to act is now, before they gain the strength to engage my men in serious warfare_. Managing to slay a hanyou as powerful as Inuyasha had, no doubt, given them the confidence they needed to turn their attention back to the more powerful class of youkai, but it was time to show these humans for the fools they were, in choosing to return to his holdings.

Sesshoumaru made to rise, reluctant though he was to leave the warmth and peace of this private moment, only to find himself half-pinned to the mattress by a slight, but solid, weight. He glanced down, his heart warming and his muscles relaxing as he took in the sight of his mate at his side, burrowed between his body and the luxurious fur of his heirloom pelt, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder and one arm resting across his chest. He closed his eyes, unleashing some portion of his youki to seek out her aura. Contentment ebbed into the back of his mind in response, sending a wave of pleasure rolling down his spine. 

His lips curled up into a slight smile as he cracked his eyes open once more. Her face was buried in the sleeve of his yukata, leaving only the tousled waves of the ebony silk of her hair visible to his keen gaze. If he tilted his head, and squinted just right, she so resembled his beloved Rin, especially in those last weeks of her life…

His eyes slipped shut as the memories assailed him. He’d returned to his brother’s village shortly after the miko’s return, surprised but strangely pleased to hear of Rin’s request to accompany him once again. She had grown into a lovely young woman by then, mature enough to bear children and thus, mature enough to make a decision about her future. He’d indulged her wish to be at his side once more, bringing her back to his recently re-conquered childhood home. He had every intention of finding her a suitable mate, but was content to have her under his guardianship in the meanwhile. 

He should have realized it sooner, of course. The warning signs were all there: the suddenly shy looks and stained cheeks where once only childish smiles had resided; the need to follow him endlessly across his estates; the sudden pricks of distinctly human emotion that stabbed at him whenever she looked his way. He resisted and denied, coolly cutting down anyone who dared suggest he was making his father’s mistake by bringing her back into his life. She was his responsibility – nothing more, nothing less.

Or so he thought.

But she was not to be deterred, and she had always known his heart. One day, matters had all come to a head: she had kissed him and called him darling and begged to bear his child, and he’d reacted the only way he knew how – by rejecting her coldly, cruelly, declaring he would never take a human for a mate, or even a whore. She had been absolutely crushed by his reaction, and it was the last he’d seen of her – she’d fled into the night, unable to stay with him, knowing she could never have him.

He had searched for her, of course, scouring the countryside and even returning to the human village near Edo, but she was nowhere to be found. After months of fruitless inquiries, word finally reached him of her whereabouts…but by the time he found her, she was dead, along with her hanyou baby, slain by means of purified shot and poison powder.

He had analyzed these memories countless times before, cataloguing and examining each mistake he’d made along the way. It was _he_ who had driven her away from the safety of his house and the strength of his protection, in a foolish bid to not follow in his father’s footsteps. It was _he_ who was to be blamed for her untimely demise, for not reaching her time – for failing to revive her, though the power of Tenseiga had long ago been rendered useless in her case. It was _he_ who was to blame for her life being cut short, for causing her such pain that she’d sought solace in the arms of another, only to be abandoned in her desperation.

He had acknowledged it, accepted it, and paid penance for it. He had given her the respect in death that he no longer could in life, laying her to rest alongside the original tomb of his father.

And he had moved on with his life, burying the regrets of the past and forging ahead, relentless in his pursuit of power, the inevitable progress of an empire he was destined to build and rule over.

And yet, on this quiet morning so many years later, reliving those memories was somehow different for him. For the very first time, he _felt_ the loss to the very core of his being, ravaged with pain, and sorrow, and guilt, and despair as the sequences played over and over in his mind. So clearly could he still remember the softness of her lips when she’d kissed him, the love and shy longing in her gaze as she pledged her love and desire to be with him. So clearly could he still see the absolute desolation in her eyes when he balked at her, pulling away and shattering her dreams of marriage and family. So clearly now did he feel the anguish of arriving too late to save her, finding her bloody and lifeless body strewn across an open field, some other youkai’s child still pressed to her chest...

He forced his eyes to open, blinking rapidly as he exhaled sharply, these memories triggering an internal war. An overwhelming tide of emotion churned in his stomach, and for once, he felt helpless to stop it. His youki was active and fighting, but the unleashed waves of regret were too strong, surging through the floodgates after being held at bay for so long.

Never before had he truly admitted to himself just how much he had loved her, and just how much he still missed her and mourned her.

Never before had he felt so distinctly vulnerable, on the utter edge of collapse. For all his strength of mind, ability to order and contain and plan his every move meticulously, he felt completely out of control.

The ice had thawed and broken through.

As the internal struggle raged on, Kagome stirred to life beside him. Almost immediately, he felt a rush of soothing serenity descend upon him, banishing the army of passions churning against his youki. She glanced up at him with wide, inquiring eyes, silently assessing his distress, before sliding her arms around his waist and pressing herself close once more.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, the words reverberating against his chest, further dispelling any lingering unease.

He found his voice, swallowing past the lump that had built up in his threat. “For what?” he asked, reaching for the ends of mokomoko, twisting and twining his fingers through the fur to gain an additional measure of comfort.

“For giving you the means to suffer,” she replied with a sigh. 

She sat up slightly, meeting his incredulous gaze with a knowing glance, answering the question before he had the chance to ask: 

“I had a dream.”


	13. Emergence

“As you requested, my lord.”

Sesshoumaru grunted in response, keeping his eyes steady on his desk as Kagome lowered the makeshift tray in front of him. The two of them had made a tacit agreement to not speak of the events of that morning; he had not yet fully recovered from the intensity of the emotions had to accompanied that rush of memories. He hated feeling vulnerable, and he hated being reminded of past mistakes.

But most of all, he hated this newfound ability to feel remorse. 

It was such a useless state of being for a creature of his stature.

He pushed these petty annoyances from his mind as he examined the materials laid out on the tray. The long wooden shafts were straight and strong, topped off with sturdy fletching; the arrowheads beside them had been honed with precision, their points glinting in the overhead light – the products of a steady, confident, practiced hand.

He had to admit, her craftsmanship had come a long way from the first time he’d met her in battle, and had the pleasure of experiencing the business end of her arrow.

Carefully, he picked up one of the arrowheads, holding it between the claws of his thumb and middle finger. With a thoughtful look, he held it aloft, pressing down ever so slightly on both ends. From the corner of his eye, he watched her curiosity grow into awe as she observed the dokkasou flowing forth from the tips of his claws, seeping into the smooth stone and granting it a dull green glow.

He laid the newly-infused arrowhead down and picked up the next one, repeating the process, his ever-impassive expression never betraying the measure of his thoughts.

“So tell me,” he murmured aloud a few moments later, startling her from her reverie, “are you truly prepared to walk into this battle? To fight alongside a sworn enemy, against those of your own kind?”

She swallowed hard before lifting her gaze to meet his. Determination glittered in the sapphire depths of her eyes.

“These are the very same warriors who murdered my husband, and left him to die in my arms,” she replied fiercely. “They are not – and never will be – brethren ‘of my own kind.’” She paused for a beat. “And you are not my enemy.”

He shrugged.

“Your men do not respect me,” she continued, “and you can’t guard me every hour of the day. These holy men have come here for me, for whatever reason...”

He bit back the urge to correct her; perhaps it would be better for them all if she didn’t realize their enemies’ true intentions.

“…and since you won’t let me go, I will do what it takes to protect myself,” she vowed. She reached out for his free hand, her fingers lightly skimming across his skin. “…and those I hold dear.”

He narrowed his eyes in assessing study, slowly withdrawing his hand from her grip. Her eyes fell to his desk, her expression shuttering at his rebuff, and a slight pang of guilt sliced through his chest in response. He turned his attention back to the task at hand, stifling a frustrated growl and pushing the unwelcome flow of emotions from his mind.

He glanced up again as he finished, only to find Kagome staring down at the space beside his desk. He followed her line of vision and quirked a brow when his eyes came to rest on Bakusaiga. He looked back at her, reaching through his youki to touch the edge of her aura, only to meet a wall of determination.

“You have experience with swordplay?” he mused aloud, cupping the last of her arrowheads in his hand.

She looked up sharply, startled by his sudden question, quiet for a moment as her eyes searched his. “I’ve handled Tessaiga on occasion,” she confirmed, bringing back to his mind the memory of their first meeting, when she had drawn the sword from the stone of his father’s tomb.

“In battle?” he pressed.

“When necessary,” she returned. She reached out, gripping the sides of the tray and pulling it towards herself, before standing, all in one swift move. “As I said before, I’ve done what I had to do, to protect the ones I love…” She trailed off, debating with herself as to whether or not she should continue her line of thought. “And I don’t intend to stop now.”

 _Neither do I_ , Sesshoumaru contended silently as she left the room, holding up the errant arrowhead and gazing at it thoughtfully.


	14. Compel

The clang of metal ringing against metal filled the air as Sesshoumaru gazed down at his courtyard. He stood flush against one of the watchtowers, an expression of passive disinterest settling over his features as he watched his men drill below. One regiment of sword-wielding warriors went through their paces against another, moving in smooth, perfect sync under the bark of their general’s commands.

“My lord, are you certain you should be up here?” a worried tower guard murmured to him. “Do you not put yourself at great risk, exposing yourself to the enemy like this?”

Sesshoumaru patently ignored his question, folding his hands behind his back and leaning against the stone structure, allowing his eyes to slide to his right. There, a unit of archers was poised, forming two lines in front of a row of targets, switching off with military precision: one line would fire, step back, and reload, while the second stepped up in their place, insuring a constant barrage of arrows flying through the air.

He frowned as he inclined his head further, catching sight of Kagome, off to the side, practicing with her weaponry. She was standing quite alone, apart from the rest of his armed forces. He narrowed his eyes, studying the gap of space that separated her from the men. _This will not do_ , he thought, the memory of their last battle ebbing at the back of his mind. He’d allowed her to lead the warriors in the least vulnerable flank, and she had been grievously injured in the attack. The cuts and bruises that still marred her skin weeks after the fact gave him reason to suspect that the enemy had not been the only ones to abuse her. 

After they had pledged their allegiance, and she began to wear his scent, his men had left her alone. This battle would test their mettle in more ways than one – now was the time to ferret out who among them were truly loyal to him and his family.

“Do you see that, my lord?” the guard asked in a hushed voice, drawing Sesshoumaru’s attention back to the present. “The holy soldiers have advanced.”

Sesshoumaru didn’t bother to turn around or even move from his current position, knowing full well he would lose the concealment of the tower if he did so. “They will be upon us by morning,” he predicted, his voice flat but his tone serious. “And we will be ready for them.”

These human holy soldiers, bolstered by their triumphs over the hanyou ranks – including his half-brother – had set their sights back on the more elite class of youkai. They were not an enemy to be taken lightly; it had taken considerable power to bring down Inuyasha, after all…but still, they were mere mortals. And they dared to advance upon his lands again?

Fools.

Had they not already stolen enough from him?

_Rin…_

Sesshoumaru’s hands dropped, clenched into fists at his sides. Attacking her had been a warning; killing Inuyasha had been another signal of their intent. Now Sesshoumaru himself was within their sights, and it was up to him. Perhaps these holy warriors were counting on him being able to feel regret, or remorse, or maybe even righteous anger in league with their own.

They always underestimated their youkai prey.

True to his father’s heritage, only ice flowed through his veins. If emotion played into it at all, it was only this:

Finally, he realized what was his to protect.

He would not allow himself make the same mistake twice.

A strangely familiar scent – with a note of charred flesh – wafted under his nose, drawing his attention to a bright star, one that appeared to be growing closer with each passing second. Suddenly, his field of vision exploded with a bright, white, soundless light. When he opened his eyes again, he spotted a memorable old figure in the distance, dallying against one of the barren walls. Before his watchman could react, Sesshoumaru took off, leaving afterimages as he made for the open space on the opposite side of the walled courtyard.

“Totosai,” he acknowledged, landing lightly on his feet.

The old swordsmith looked up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. “You rang?”

“You have finished the commission?” Sesshoumaru asked, ignoring the rude salutation.

Totosai began to dig into one sleeve of his kimono. “You don’t know what you ask of me,” he muttered, shifting through the cloth as though irritated. “The impossible, that’s what!”

The tiniest of smiles tugged at Sesshoumaru’s lips. “You don’t enjoy a challenge, old man?” he taunted lowly.

Totosai grunted, finally seizing upon the finished weapon and drawing it out into the open. “I always deliver what I promise!” he replied with a slight pout. “Even if it _is_ practically impossible.”

Sesshoumaru eyed the small katana critically. “It took you five days to forge _that_?” he queried, sounding none too impressed with the old man’s efforts.

Totosai screwed his mouth into an outraged sneer. “When all you give me is an infused stone arrowhead – and you expect me to work miracles with it – !” he started, waving the small sword – a wakizashi, no larger than a dagger – in the air. “Why, you ungrateful mongrel, what more do you want?!”

“I want what I asked for,” Sesshoumaru remarked in response. He grabbed Totosai’s wrist, stilling it in a second, and gazed thoughtfully at the still-sheathed weapon. “I suppose this will have to do, if it is all you can offer.”

The smith’s wrist went limp, signaling defeat, and Sesshoumaru withdrew the wakizashi from it, pulling the sword from its scabbard. It wasn’t much to look at – the blade was long and gray, though it glowed with a dull green hue; the hilt was solid, made of metal, the pommel covered in dark red tack for ease of grip. It had a nice, heavy weight for its size – thus, he concluded, it should serve its purpose with relative ease.

“You know what I think?” Totosai suddenly volunteered as Sesshoumaru continued to examine his handiwork.

Sesshoumaru didn’t respond; he held the sheath in one hand and redoubled his grip on the hilt with the other, slicing the air between them in one smooth stroke.

“I think you greatly underestimate her,” Totosai barged on. “After all, she is your brother’s wife.”

“Was,” Sesshoumaru corrected absently, taking another test swing.

The old youkai must’ve been growing senile, for he deigned to grab Sesshoumaru’s wrist. “And this is how you show your respect for her?” he asked in a harsh voice. “Your father gave up his fang. Your brother gave up _his_ fang.”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You forget your place,” he murmured, not bothering to disguise the threat in his voice. 

Totosai quickly released his hold when he felt the singe of dokkasou that seeped from the taiyoukai’s skin.

“This blade is weak, for it was made from stone,” the swordsmith reiterated. “You wouldn’t even give up clippings from your claws – the very source of the toxic flower poison – or some other living piece of your body. Is she not even worthy of that?”

Tension filled the silence between them. Totosai rolled the handle of his giant hammer over his shoulder, leaning forward to capture Sesshoumaru’s gaze with those wide, unblinking, all-seeing eyes. “Have you even claimed her as your mate, or do you still wallow in the past?”

Sesshoumaru drew the short sword to Totosai’s chest, the tip of it glittering as it grazed the old man’s kimono. “Just who do you think I am?” he muttered savagely, his youki stirring to life under his icy, calm exterior.

Totosai merely gazed back at him. “Right now, all I see is a little boy, one too afraid to stand up and truly claim what is his to protect.” He sighed, rolling his eyes heavenward. “Oh, the disappointment your father would feel, if only he could see you now…at least he had the guts to protect his woman.”

Sesshoumaru’s grip on the hilt tightened, his eyes narrowing into slits as he fought to control his reaction. _You dare bring my father into this?_ he raged silently, unwanted memories surging through the back of his mind. 

“You think I don’t understand sacrifice?” he said finally, his voice preternaturally calm though he spoke through clenched teeth. Tenseiga rattled against his hip as his youki roared to life, urged on by the rush of emotions suddenly churning through his gut, fed by memories of his father, and of Rin. “You think I don’t know what it means to love?”

Totosai glanced down, mild surprise lifting the slight brows that sat high on his forehead. “Actually, I guess you do,” he chuckled, pushing the drawn sword away from his chest with a single finger. The wakizashi’s blade glowed a deep, rich green, the dokkasou’s aura rising like wisps of steam all around it.

Sesshoumaru could only stare, watching as the blade greedily sucked in the power of the toxic flower poison dripping from his claws.

_Totosai, you old son of a bitch…_

“Now _that’s_ a weapon worthy of a woman like Kagome,” the smith declared in a sage voice, struggling to hide his sense of triumph at having bested the relentless taiyoukai. “How very like you, Sesshoumaru, to have to be pushed to the brink of action, before admitting to even the tiniest of emotions – ”

“I suggest you take your leave, before you push more than just your luck with me,” Sesshoumaru interrupted, abruptly sheathing the sword and tucking it into his obi, alongside Bakusaiga and Tenseiga. His eyes glittered with cruel mirth when he looked up again. “Or perhaps you wish to play target practice with my archers?”

“Gotta go,” Totosai choked out, whistling for his ride and hopping up on his three-eyed ox. They disappeared in another flash of light, not willing to risk taunting Sesshoumaru into fulfilling his threats.

Sesshoumaru turned, catching a glimpse of Kagome from the corner of his eye. His hand fell to the hilt of the little katana, and he sighed. Unbidden thoughts had bombarded his mind during Totosai’s little tirade, but Sesshoumaru dare not give them credence. So what if he hadn’t “claimed” Kagome? She still clung to her memories of Inuyasha…

And he…

He closed his eyes as he turned away.

Theirs was merely a business arrangement.

Yes.

Business. 

The joining of two prominent forces. The expansion of an empire. The growth of wealth, measured both in terms of earthly possessions and karma.

That, alone, would have to be enough.

That, alone, made her worthy of his protection.


	15. Offering

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes, tipping his head back against the wall. He sat beside the window in his bedchamber, soaking in the last moments of peace, cloaked in the darkness of night. When dawn broke, it would bring not only the first rays of light – but also the first cries of battle.

He could sense it – the tense anticipation coiled within his warriors as they stood guard, dotted strategically around the grounds as well as within the castle walls; further away, the cautious apprehension of the enemy floated through the air as they indulged their greatest human weakness, this need for sleep. Within himself, there was only calm: a steady pulse, rhythmic breathing, precision focus. In such a state, nothing could upset him, upend the balance that defined him as a taiyoukai. A warrior’s heart, a general’s mind, an unflinching hand – all were key to his success.

His eyes opened and narrowed as he inclined his head, his gaze falling on the restless figure occupying his bed. Scarcely a sennight had passed since the first night they had lain together, joined in mutual mourning and grief, each lost to the haunted memories of loved ones long gone. Every night since, they lay, side by side, together – and yet, not. Briefly, he wondered if her inability to sleep had anything to do with his absence; ultimately, he shoved such thoughts from his mind almost as quickly as they had formed, citing nonsense. 

Still, he could sense something plaguing her, churning beneath her surface – indecision, perhaps, or worry, or fear. It was something dark and toxic, poisoning her aura and spreading, scraping against the bonds to his youki in a most irritating manner. Finally, she sat up, giving in to the emotion, lowering her chin to her chest and capturing her face in her hands.

“Kagome,” he said, his tone soft but firm as it travelled across the room.

She gasped, startled as she turned to face him. “You’re awake,” she choked out stupidly, rushing to wipe away her tears.

In one smooth, graceful motion, he stood, his golden eyes glowing in the darkness as he approached the bed. A single candle flickered to life beside her, drawing his attention to her face. He studied her in silence for a moment before speaking again.

“Why do you cry?” he queried.

She drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “I never wanted this.”

Sesshoumaru frowned as he stared down at her.

“I never wanted to be a warrior,” she clarified. “I’m a healer, not a fighter. I studied with Kaede, and took care of the villagers, and my friends. Inuyasha was our protector…not me.” She sniffled, tightening the brace of her arms. “I never thought I’d have to do this again, and I’m not sure I still can.”

“You have been trained,” he reminded her.

She shook her head. “Training means little when you’re in the midst of holy war,” she murmured helplessly. “I fear for my life…and yours. How can you not be scared?”

“I feel no fear,” he replied, reaching out to draw the wakizashi from its place with his swords and laying it on the mattress beside her. “And neither should you.”

Her brow furrowed as she studied the short sword. “I offered to bless your soldiers’ armor, so that it might be less vulnerable to the holy warriors’ purification powers,” she continued, “but they scoffed at me. Why can’t they see that I only want to help them? Do they blame me, for bringing this threat in the first place?”

“They do not want your protection,” Sesshoumaru acknowledged. “They are stubborn in their beliefs.”

Hesitantly, she reached out, fingering the dark red tack on the grip. “So what are you saying, by giving me this?” she asked. “They don’t need me, and they won’t protect me?”

He was silent for a moment, before drawing another sword from the darkness. “No,” he mused, resting Bakusaiga alongside the wakizashi on the bed. The flicker of the candlelight revealed identical sheaths, patterns etched by a skilled, knowledgeable hand. Kagome looked up at him then, her expression torn – tears still rolled down her cheeks, her fear and disappointment from the dealings with his men apparent; slowly, curiosity and understanding dawned across her features as she finally realized the meaning of the gift.

A matching set.

A companion sword.

The wakizashi to his katana, the two foremost tools in a samurai’s arsenal.

She sat up on her knees, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her face against his chest. “Thank you,” she breathed, unable to staunch a fresh flow of tears.

He didn’t reply, merely closing his arms around her.


	16. Salvation

It was all going according to plan.

At the first sign that their human opponents were advancing, Sesshoumaru’s archers had taken their places atop the castle walls, letting loose a steady wave of poison-tipped arrows. They aimed high in the air, giving the arrows a longer arc, so that they might meet their targets further afield. Even with no enemy directly in sight, they continued their barrage, switching off with military precision, insuring constant fire, until the air around them began to reek of their youki.

All at once, the holy warriors appeared over the crest of a hill, surging forward toward the castle gate, cries of war and salvation ripped from their throats as they moved together as one. As they neared, a quarter of them dropped to one knee, their weapons angled high, and fired, their patented purified shot and poison powder swelling through the air. Those shooting were skilled marksmen, able to aim for the unprotected areas of the archers’ bodies – arms, legs, necks. The aerial assault from Sesshoumaru’s men never wavered, even as archers fell backwards off the wall, stunned or even injured from the unexpected attack.

The human force bottlenecked against the castle gate, allowing a few select archers nearby to aim directly at their foe, clipping them with their youki-infused arrowheads. The will of the warrior monks was strong, however, and they finally broke through the gate, pouring into the castle courtyard – 

– only to be met by a wall of youkai soldiers, poised to attack.

The sudden shift in battle tactics – from distance shooting to hand-to-hand combat – was clearly to the advantage of those defending the grounds. The humans’ weapons were rendered useless in such close proximity, but that didn’t stop them. They fanned out in the crowd, wielding the purified arquebuses as blunt objects, striking at the armor of their youkai opponents using little more than sheer strength. The youkai warriors fought back mercilessly, cutting and slashing with their swords, steadily gaining the upper hand.

Sesshoumaru and Kagome were further back, standing with the second wave of soldiers near the castle steps, each poised to join the battle as it raged toward them. Though his warriors fought valiantly, they could not quite contain the forward momentum of the holy warriors; soon enough – though a bit later than he expected – they were all swept up in the fight.

The second wave of youkai aggression enlivened Sesshoumaru’s forces; as they sensed him joining their effort, they fought harder, more precisely. Sesshoumaru himself took little pleasure in striking down those humans foolish enough to approach him, so focused was he on finding their leader. Now that he was in the middle of it, it was harder for him to ferret out the strongest among them, to track that monk’s movements as he stalked the grounds, searching for his ultimate prey.

For _him_.

Sesshoumaru did not fight in fear; no, he was quite the opposite – calm, steady, patient. As the clang of clashing metal rose in the air around him, he unleashed clouds of his toxic flower poison. Wave after wave of greenish mist emanated among the crowds, momentarily stunning the holy human warriors and allowing their youkai opponents a chance to finish them off.

Even this attack was met and parried, however – a deep bellow rumbled through the courtyard, followed by a surge of poisoned gunpowder ripping through the air. Youkai soldiers and humans alike were soon coated with a thin layer of the dark substance, but still, the battle didn’t abate. The stench of human blood and purified demonic flesh was high in the air as the two sides continued to clash, content and determined to fight to the death.

It was all going so perfectly according to plan...

It wasn’t until he felt the pulse of Tenseiga at his hip that Sesshoumaru realized something was amiss. He quickly dispatched the warrior before him – one slice with Bakusaiga was enough to end that pitiful being’s life – and left, sparing afterimages as he moved through the courtyard-turned-battleground. With little more than the call of Tenseiga to guide him, he wondered, briefly, what in the world could’ve awakened the sword so abruptly.

An unnerving feeling of foreboding washed over him as he found himself moving away from the intensity of the fighting, following the lure of Tenseiga into an abandoned building along the far castle wall. He raised his right elbow, keeping Bakusaiga low across his waist, and pressed forward in the darkened hall, caution in his step. His youki seeped out around him, offering another layer of protection against surprise, and he tried to figure out why he felt so strange. It was as if part of his conscious mind was gone, cut off from the rest of his inner being.

With one glimpse into the room he approached, he suddenly understood – 

– there stood Kagome, gagged and blindfolded, an ofuda pinned to her chest. She didn’t struggle against her captor; instead, she stood perfectly still, as if unconscious. His youki raged at the sight, streaming out for her, only to be met and repelled by a holy barrier. 

Before he could take another step, Sesshoumaru found himself ensnared by a life-sized rosary. He narrowed his eyes as fanatical chanting rose to his ears, glancing about for any signs of life beyond the one that held his mate captive. Ofudas shot through the air, landing strategically around his body, but the papers burned as they came into contact with his clothes or skin or hair, falling away uselessly.

He attempted to move his arm, still held defensively in front of him, but the spell on the rosary was stronger, chaining him to the ground, holding him in place.

The chanting suddenly stopped, and the air was still, and Sesshoumaru surveyed his surroundings as best he could. The only sign that anyone other than he or Kagome occupied the room was the hand at her elbow, one which gripped her with seemingly unnecessary force. He frowned, but otherwise gave no indication of distress. Tenseiga was silent at his hip.

“So you are the one who has enchanted the miko.”

A voice sliced through the air as their captor appeared, dressed as a monk with a warrior’s protection. A plate of armor covered his chest; a helmet of matching black metal was perched upon his head. Robes of gold and purple swirled at his feet; another rosary lay at his hip, wrapped twice around his generous waist, the end of it glowing an eerie purplish pink.

The monk’s eyes widened momentarily as he caught sight of the elegant taiyoukai caught in his trap. “It is _you_ ,” he cried, inhaling sharply as recognition settled over his features. “No wonder she put up such a fight.”

Sesshoumaru was silent as he glared at this monk, obviously the leader of the forces currently engaging in battle with his men outside.

“I have come to destroy you,” the monk declared solemnly. “You are an evil presence that should be removed from this world.” He looked at Kagome, still caught in his vise-like grip. “And if I can save a human soul in the meanwhile, all the better.”

Sesshoumaru just stared, unmoving, unchanging, his eyes steady on their captor.

The monk smiled. “Might I just ask you one question before you go?” he inquired. Without waiting for an answer, he barreled on. “Why? Why do you enchant and corrupt and entice humanity, when you are hell-bent only on destroying us? Why do you believe it is you who shall be supreme ruler of these lands? Why do you stop at nothing in your pursuit of power, sparing no regard for the human life you are desecrating in the process?”

“I care not for your kind,” Sesshoumaru intoned. “It is their own foolishness which leads to their demise.”

The monk’s eyes lit up. “Is that so?” he murmured. He redoubled his hold on Kagome’s elbow. “So what foolish decision did this woman make?”

Sesshoumaru bristled, a scowl settling over his face.

“Or was it you who made the mistake this time?” the monk mused aloud. “Did you honestly believe you could break a miko as strong as her? Or did you take delight in stripping away her power and leaving her little more than a submissive whore?”

“It is you who is the fool,” Sesshoumaru shot back. “If she is so powerless, then why such an effort to contain her?”

“Your youki bleeds through her!” the monk raged, breaking his hold on the girl and swooping closer to Sesshoumaru. “You have corrupted her, and turned her against her fellow man! She may be ‘powerful’ now, but it is only thanks to your evil. When you are destroyed, she shall be saved!”

He wrenched the rosary beads from his waist, twisting them around his hands and chanting another powerful spell. “ _When all youkai are wiped from this earth, only then shall humanity be saved!_ ” he shouted again, barely able to contain his righteous anger. 

Another twist, another pull, and the rosary beads that enchained Sesshoumaru tightened, squeezing the breath from his lungs, burning through his armor and clothing and into his flesh. His youki howled in response, summoning the power of his demonic blood. It roared through his veins and sent his muscles into spasms, preparing his body to transform. His vision was bathed in red as he felt his fangs and claws elongate, but at the same time, his mind warred with his body, not yet willing to be lost to the sheer physical strength of his true form.

Dimly, he caught sight of a faint glow emanating from the monk – or, more precisely, from _behind_ the monk, whose aura was dark purple under the strain of his effort. As Sesshoumaru felt his knees give out from under him, the mysterious glow brightened, almost searing into his eyes.

Tenseiga pulsed against his hip, sending burning sensations rocketing through his body, and he realized he was beginning to transform. His heart was calm, but somewhere in the vestiges of his civilized mind, a small sense of panic took hold.

He would survive this, of that there was no doubt…

…but what of Kagome?

This was an old refrain, after all, this ageless dance of youkai versus humanity. One always seemed to want the other gone, destroyed, wiped from the face of the earth. That he had been made target of these so-called holy human warriors was no surprise; if they managed to kill him, the rest of the youkai race would be easy to dispatch, by comparison.

But Kagome…she was a human – she was a miko – and she had been bound to him via a blood oath. Without him, she stood alone, unwanted by youkai, sought out for destruction by her own kind. She was ‘damaged goods’ already, thanks to her marriage to his hanyou half-brother, and had come to him of last resort, having nowhere else to turn. If he left her, it would be as before –

Just like with Rin – 

The chains of his rosary bindings suddenly snapped, breaking away cleanly, releasing him into a heap. He fell back, disoriented, fighting to leash the vestiges of his partially-transformed state –only to be met with the vision of Kagome, both hands still wrapped around the hilt of her wakizashi, the blade of which was buried deep in the monk’s back. She was trembling violently, tears coursing down her cheeks as she stared down at her victim, her aura strong and white as it enwrapped her. 

Sesshoumaru lay back, breathing deeply as his eyes fluttered shut, the sounds of the battle outside beginning to seeping through the drafty walls of the abandoned building. He had to get back out there, to help his men –

“Oh, God, Sesshoumaru!” Warm hands searched his body, even as he lay prone, and he looked up to see Kagome’s teary-eyed face gazing down at him, fearful yet concerned. “Are you okay?” 

Without hesitation, he released Bakusaiga and reached for her, closing his arms around her back and crushing her against him. Her chest heaved against his; he could feel the race of her heart, the way her blood flowed through her veins. He tightened the embrace, allowing his youki to enfold them as well, for the mystical bond which united them to heal and strengthen.

“I am now,” he said softly, feeling the cadence of his heart meet hers. For the first time since being bound to her blood, he was able to sense and overcome the wave of emotion that poured over her, flowing through her into him – relief, joy, exhaustion – 

– and he smiled.


	17. Consolation

Sesshoumaru heaved a heavy sigh, his shoulders dropping as, finally, he entered his private quarters. It had been a very long and trying day – but then, battles always were. His side had emerged victorious in the end; his men had spent the better part of the evening in celebration, burning off their displaced adrenaline and aggression. As their leader and commander, he had joined in the festivities, but he also realized when it was time to take his leave.

After all, a taiyoukai never displayed his weakness in front of his people.

He wasn’t surprised when, upon entering their shared bedchamber, he found Kagome fast asleep on the bed. If anyone had suffered more than him during their war with the holy human warriors, it was her. Left vulnerable in battle, she had been captured and spellbound by the enemy leader, bait in a trap set to ensnare and ultimately kill him. They had survived, thanks to her actions, but unlike his warriors, she reacted as if she’d been dealt a crushing blow instead of engineering a triumphant victory.

She had not been welcome at the celebratory feast with his men.

Sesshoumaru moved across the room on silent feet, absently going through his nightly routine. He still hadn’t fully recovered from the monk’s attack; anytime he came that close to transformation, it took a lot out of him. The days to follow would be almost as difficult to get through as the battle itself – he would need time: time to recover his full strength, time to deal with his men and the aftermath of their victory, time to assess the tenuous human-youkai situation and in what ways, if any, this skirmish had altered relations.

He looked forward to none of this – diplomacy was not exactly his forte – but most of all, he knew dealing with his men would be the hardest part. As much as they deserved praise and accolades for their part in his victory, there was also punishment to be dealt. None had protected his ultimate asset in this fight against a high holy monk and his comrades, too proud – or resentful – to recognize the part she had to play. By shunning her, allowing her to be captured, they had allowed _him_ to be captured.

And that was absolutely unacceptable. 

He demanded many things from his men, it was true, but above all – he demanded loyalty.

To him, and his family.

 _Family_ , he mused silently, slipping into a light yukata, adorned at the shoulder with his father’s crest. _My mate._

It was still difficult for him to think of Kagome in those terms, but even he couldn’t deny the shift in their dynamic that had occurred after that horrific attack. Almost against his will, he’d allowed her in, to grow closer to his jealously-protected heart. He supposed he owed her nothing less; after all, she had saved him. Still, it was not familiar or comfortable territory; his first instinct was still to turn away and shut her out, a habit he’d held since his father’s death all those years ago.

“Oh!”

The cry cut through his reverie; he turned, noticing Kagome had wrenched herself awake. She tossed the blankets to the side of the bed and sat up, burying her face in her hands, sobbing quietly. Her entire body was shaking, almost shivering, and the keen scent of sweat met his nose. Before he realized he was moving, he closed the space between them, finding himself in front of her, reaching out for one of her shoulders.

“I can’t stop seeing it,” she blubbered, responding to the warmth of his touch. “All that blood – that sickening crack of bone – ”

She choked on her words, leaning forward, her hair falling over her face. “I killed a man.”

He sank down beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. Her pain and anguish poured over him, but instead of allowing the emotions to overwhelm him, he corralled them, not willing to give in and let the stream of feelings feast on his own dark memories.

“Does it always feel this way?” she whispered after a moment, wiping her face with her hands.

“You have to understand the weight of life in order to understand the weight of war,” he murmured. It had been a harrowing lesson for him to learn as well, driven to the depths of hell and back in pursuit of power. “Only then will you be truly able to wield your weapon with a compassionate heart.”

“Where’s the compassion in killing a monk?” she asked, clearly recalling to mind the one who had travelled with his brother’s group during the hunt for Naraku.

“This is the same man who murdered your husband,” he reminded her. “I do not understand how you could feel remorse for causing his demise.”

She shrugged helplessly. “Because I’m a healer, not a killer,” she said bleakly. “Because I’m a human being, and so was he.”

Sesshoumaru quirked a brow at her reasoning, but didn’t feel compelled to argue over it just now. “I only regret that we were not able to recover your weapon,” he replied. The blade of the specially-commissioned wakizashi had broken in two while still buried in the monk’s back, a testament to the force she’d used in wielding it.

This statement had an unintended consequence, bringing a fresh round of tears to her eyes. “That, too,” she sniffled, reaching for his free hand, lacing her fingers through his. “Oh, God, I feel like I’ve let you down. I mean, it’s the first tangible gift you gave me, and for such a special reason, and I couldn’t even – ”

He cut her off abruptly, pressing his mouth to hers, lingering through the shiver of surprise that shot down her spine, before gently pulling away. Her eyes searched his for the space of a breath.

“What was that for?” she asked, confusion ripe in her tone.

He furrowed a brow as he studied her. “That is how humans offer their mates comfort, yes?”

Her expression faded into a small smile, her eyes closing as her arms drifted around his neck. “Yes,” she returned, drawing her lips to his once more.


	18. Halo

Sesshoumaru arose, tightening the belt of his nighttime yukata as he moved toward the window on silent feet. It was with a heavy heart that he faced the dawning of the new day, casting a grim gaze out over the horizon, where the sun was just beginning to rise in a bevy of dusky oranges, pinks, and yellows. He focused on that glowing, distant point, but from the corner of his eye his attention was captured by the changing of the castle guard. His men stood proud at their posts, the heady rush of their adrenaline lingering in the air still.

It was the morning after, and they had been victorious over their foes, once again tipping the balance of power firmly in their favor. The fierce pride and loyalty they felt towards him, their commander, was writ large in their collective carriages – the way they stood tall, shoulders back, chests out, chins forward, stances ready. There was always something to relish in beating back a human force – even if some believed the band of warrior monks they had just bested in battle was not what posed the greatest danger for their lord and master. 

And perhaps…

Sesshoumaru glanced over his shoulder, allowing his eyes to fall on the figure sinking into the low mattress, burrowed under the sheets and curled in the close embrace of mokomoko.

…there was something to their worries.

He faced forward once more, propping an elbow up against the stone wall that formed the arch of the window, and leaned into the cool, heavy glass, his eyes slipping shut as his forehead came to rest against the pane. If he allowed himself a moment of pure, unadulterated honesty, he could indulge in the wave of exhaustion that still cloaked him in the wake of his partial transformation. It always took time for him to recover from the shift between two forms, especially when the transformation was brought on by sheer pride and rage, as this one had been. The sheer, blunt power of his youki had broken through the barrier placed on her by the monk, and it was only Kagome’s initiative and desperation that had saved him from losing his mind. 

The consequences of her actions had a profound effect on her, however, sending her spiraling into a very strange state of guilty mourning for having caused the man’s demise at all.

And that was how it had all come to head the night before – in the midst of their renewed bond, in his triumph over conquering the tricky human emotions now flowing through him, he needed no second thought to give in to the primal need to protect and comfort her. Kissing her had stopped the tears and guilt and insecurity. Kissing her had closed the space between them, literally and figuratively. Kissing her had brought an unexpected measure of pleasure into the mix, stoking some long-buried desire for a mate and family and heir. 

Sesshoumaru lifted his free hand, the tips of his claws grazing his lips as he studied this memory of sensation and reaction. Kissing was an all-too-human ritual, not unknown – but uncommon – to youkai mating. It seemed to be something Kagome – _his mate_ – enjoyed, or wanted, or at least needed in the moment; she had embraced him and held him as if clinging for dear life, her mouth pressed to his, unmoving, yielding only in deference to breath before returning to the soon-familiar position. He sensed something was not quite right, but didn’t question it, instead focusing on the intimacy that seemed to bloom between them as their mutual embrace closed, and on exploring the heightened sensations rolling through her mind into his, all of these emotions he couldn’t identify or classify just yet.

Even in sleep she held fast to him, her arms twined over his shoulders, her head tucked against his chest. Her breath eventually evened out, her body steadily becoming heavier against his as she delved deeper into slumber, but he had lain awake, staring up into the darkness of night, his heart sinking and his mind turning troubled. The kissing had led to more, which he had not anticipated, but had enjoyed nonetheless.

Human passion truly was something to behold – and _experience_.

All the same, sexual satisfaction was not enough. He was not yet ready for the responsibility of trying to build and protect an empire as well as a family. He was not yet ready to face the consequences of taking a human as a lover, especially not this one – his brother’s widow, a woman who had fought to the ends of the earth to be with him, one who still actively mourned his death. He was not yet ready to deal with the uproar that was already inevitable, that had been building and simmering ever since he’d sliced this human’s wrist and spilled his blood into her veins.

Human passion was made human relationships messy, and all it had taken was one simple kiss to plunge him into unknown territory, a hidden morass he heretofore had no interest in exploring.

Sometime near dawn, she had relinquished her hold on him, turning instead and wrapping herself in the comfort of his heirloom pelt. He took the chance to escape from the haze of her influence, and now, as he contemplated the new day, he realized why the evening before had been such a strange but satisfying yet disheartening experience.

In his mind’s eye he conjured an image of Rin, the last time he’d ever seen her – the way she looked up at him so hopefully, so desirously, the way she’d pressed her lips to his so eagerly, the way she’d whispered her pleas to lay with him, to carry his child, to love and marry and settle down with him. His hand curled into a fist, his claws scraping against his palms, as his heart broke all over again, a flood of shock and remorse and anguish flushing through his chest. Too late had he realized how he’d allowed his prejudice, his pride, and his fear to get in his own way; too late had he realized just how much he’d loved her, how much he’d _always_ loved her. 

His rejection had ultimately killed her, and for that, he could never forgive himself.

Sesshoumaru opened his eyes, gazing dully into the valley below as his hand fell back to his side. He hated how he could feel this vulnerable, this conflicted, this divergent from his usual calm, calculating self. He hated that these memories insisted on asserting themselves now, when so much else was going on – battles, wars, the strategies of empire-building, the growing resentment of the men under his command at having to show respect for a human as his consort, much less his equal. He hated that he now _cared_ for the human under his protection, that he had enjoyed sleeping with her – _his brother’s mate_ – that he could see the trap his memories of Rin were laying, even as he saw himself stepping into it.

But, he was a taiyoukai.

He was the Lord of the West.

He did not have the ability to truly fear.

He faced his obstacles head on – be they enemy, mutiny, or of his own design.

He crossed the room again, taking slow, measured steps as he approached the bed, sinking down beside the low mattress. His gaze was open, almost appreciative, as his eyes fell upon her still-sleeping form. He reached out and brushed back her hair, trailing his fingers through the long, dark locks that fanned across the pillow and into mokomoko at her back.

Her aura at rest was absolutely intoxicating; it had the singular ability to soothe his youki like nothing else. The heaviness of his heart lifted, even if the troubles of his mind did not completely ease. She had found her way in, past the barriers he’d raised around his heart… Now it was only a question: of willingness, of honor, of desire.

Her eyelids fluttered and opened as she reached for the hand toying in her hair. Her gaze arrested him, searing straight through him, and all of those emotions he couldn’t yet identify came rushing back to the fore. He studied her carefully, allowing her to lace her fingers with his, proceeding incrementally as she reached across their shared bond for the measure of his youki.

Her expression was troubled when she finally spoke. “Sesshoumaru,” she breathed, her eyes falling away from his as she sat up, drawing the sheet around herself. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t meant for this to happen – ”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Well, it did,” he replied, redoubling his grip on her hand. “And I have no regrets.”

Her eyes welled with tears as her gaze met his once more. “You don’t?” she whispered, her tone full of skepticism and hope. “You don’t think this whole thing was a mistake?”

He leaned close to her, the beginnings of a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t make mistakes,” he informed her. _Not anymore._

She sank back into the luxurious warmth of the mokomoko, welcoming his nearness all the same. “I do, sometimes,” she admitted. “After all, I’m only human.”

“Human or not,” he contended, “with you by my side, I can – and _will_ – conquer the world.” 

“Unless your men mutiny,” she pointed out, brushing aside the royal silk sheets, welcoming his weight atop hers.

“They won’t,” he promised carelessly, climbing into bed with her, his eyes drifting appreciatively over her body as he felt her hands fumble with his obi.

Her ministrations stopped, her eyes searching his features for a long, silent moment. “How can you be so sure?” she asked quietly, hesitantly.

“Their loyalty lies with me,” he reminded her, his gaze meeting hers at last. “And _my_ loyalty is to you.”

Her eyes widened at the implication, her lips parting slightly, and he could feel the desire that rolled through her, strong and swift and completely unadorned. As his mouth found hers, as he allowed himself to be swept up in the raw, aching, intense emotion that burned fast and hot between them, he realized:

Finally, he had found her barriers – and finally, he had broken through.


	19. Remembrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Author’s Note_ : “Dream a Little Dream of Me” © 1931 Fabian Andre, Wilbur Schwandt, & Gus Kahn

_…stars shining bright above you…_

Sesshoumaru gazed up into the heavens, the delicate twinkling of the stars mirroring the unshed tears behind his eyes.

She didn’t deserve this. Neither did he.

They had stood shoulder to shoulder for nigh on fifty years. He was the most powerful youkai in all the land; she was the strongest miko the world had seen in centuries. Together, they were formidable. They could conquer any territory, vanquish any foe.

_…night breezes seem to whisper ‘I love you’…_

He remembered the day it started – the day her life began to ebb away. He had awakened with a jolt, absolutely, irrationally certain that she was dead even as she lay there beside him. Not until he gathered her close and nearly squeezed the startled breath from her lungs did he realize she was, indeed, alive.

“What’s wrong?” she had whispered, and his stomach turned.

He could smell it on her: the sickeningly sweet stench of death.

“Nothing,” he had replied, his embrace tightening ever so slightly around her. She curled against him, slipping readily into sleep once more, but he lay awake silently, the scent drifting in and out of his nostrils, a tacit threat.

_…stars fading, but I linger on, dear…_

It was a long, slow, painful process. She wasted away before his very eyes, gradually losing her physical strength, her miko powers – but never her will to live. He was helpless to stop it, and that made him angry – frustrated – irritated beyond all reason. She, on the other hand, seemed to understand and accept her fate. She wasn’t happy about it, but, typically, she was more worried about him than herself.

_…still craving your kiss…_

“It must make you terribly sad,” she said that night, drawing one frail hand through the lustrous curtain of his silvery hair.

He didn’t respond, merely closing his eyes, bringing her as close as he dared. 

He held her in his arms as they lay outside, in the field of flowers where they’d pledged their allegiance to each other so many years before. She had come to him as the last living member of his brother’s group, and he had taken her in. He told himself it was out a sense of familial honor, but it turned into so much more than that.

After Rin…he never expected to find peace, happiness…or contentment in the presence of a human again.

_…say ‘nighty-night’ and kiss me…_

“Promise me one thing,” she murmured, her voice thin, her breath heavy and stuttering in her chest.

_…just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me…_

“What’s that?” he asked, tightening his hold around her.

“Be happy, my darling Sesshoumaru.” She smiled contentedly as life slowly faded from her eyes. “…and one day…dream a little dream of me.”


	20. Promise

The great taiyoukai did not mourn in public.

No one was surprised when he returned to his stronghold alone – they all knew she had suffered from a strange illness, and that he had taken her out to die in peace. No one was surprised when he continued on about his business that day as if nothing had happened, wearing the same unemotional expression that was his signature.

This was the way it should be: a strong leader betraying no vulnerability.

No, it was not until he was in his private chambers – alone, again, for the first time in fifty years – that his determination faltered. He couldn’t bear to look down at the bed they had shared, much less return to it, with the knowledge that she was forever gone. 

Instead, after undressing, he drew the blankets from the mattress and wrapped them around himself, slipping listlessly down to the floor.

The lingering scent of her encompassed him, and for a fleeting moment he could feel the whisper of her touch once again…

…sliding across his shoulders…

…down his back. He shut his eyes tightly, her final words reverberating through his mind, and he knew he was doomed to dream of her…

…and miss her...

…for many nights to come.


End file.
